


Sold

by catsplosion



Series: In the Dust [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Gen, Loss of Innocence, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 00:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsplosion/pseuds/catsplosion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that her brother is dead, Brida Torval must provide for herself and her ailing mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When Brida returned from the Deep Roads, she went straight for Kirun's shop, sneaking through the Carta's tunnels. The slightest noise put her on edge; she knew she was in more danger here than she had been in the tunnels where beasts and darkspawn dwelt. Her body ached, her hands were filthy, and the ragged gash on her arm from her encounter with a deep stalker kept opening and soaking the makeshift bandage. More than anything, she wanted to wash up and lie down. But she didn’t dare take her treasure home with her and have it stolen.

She entered the shop hesitantly. Kirun had a reputation for dealing with casteless, but reputations can be wrong, and this could prove a fatal mistake. "H-hello?"

If he was surprised to see her, he didn't let on. He even looked friendly. "What have you got for me, girl?" She gave him a cloth bundle from her pack. He unrolled it and examined the fine dagger with its intricately carved handle, turning it this way and that. He thumbed the blade. "It's dull."

"It can be sharpened. It's good craftsmanship."

He raised an eyebrow. "And you know good craftsmanship?"

"Am I wrong?" The words came out sharper than she intended and she steeled herself. He could kill her, and no one would care.>  
He looked her up and down. "Twenty-five silver."

She knew the dagger would sell for five times that. She also knew she could do no better. "Okay."

He shook the coins out into his hand, but he didn’t offer them to her. "How old are you?"

She tightened her hands into fists to keep her voice from wavering. "Thirteen."

Shaking his head, he closed his fingers over the money - her money, and began unfastening his trousers. "Not even ripe yet. On your knees, then."

She stared at him. He still wore the casual, almost friendly expression, but his dark eyes were hard, unyielding. She trembled.

"Come on, girl. You'll figure it out as you go."

Focusing on the fistful of promised silver, she tried to moisten her lips but her tongue felt covered in sand. Tears threatened and she fought against them as she sank to her knees.

When it was over, he pressed the coins into her palm. She didn't look at him. "I'll see you again."

She knew he was right. Back in the tunnels, she struggled to remain quiet while she spewed her guts onto the stone, bracing herself against the cool, smooth wall, struggling to avoid puking on her boots.

When she’d left home that morning, she envisioned a triumphant return, head held high, proudly providing for her family, no longer a child. She realized now that there would never be triumph in Dust Town, nor pride, and that no one would ever hold their head high. But the silver bought more food than she'd seen in weeks. It also bought ale which almost washed the filth from her mouth.

When she arrived home, her mother greeted her warmly. Brida didn't look at her, either.


	2. Trade

Irony was finally having food but no longer having an appetite. Brida knew she had to eat anyway, and watching color return to her mother's sunken cheeks made it easier.

"How did you get all this?"

She kept her eyes on her plate. "I went treasure-hunting in the Deep Roads." 

"You must have made some good finds." She smiled sadly. "Your father would be proud."

The food stuck in her throat. She coughed. "I might go back tomorrow, venture a little farther."

"Do be careful. It's dangerous in the deep."

"I will." She had covered the gash on her arm, which finally stopped bleeding. She didn't want her to worry; she also wanted something to distract her with if she asked too many questions. 

As it turned out, her mother dozed off by the fire before she could ask anything. Even in the flickering light, Brida could see how tired she looked, how weak. Her once-lovely face bore lines of sorrow and grief that added decades to her age. She minded casteless children by day - and sometimes for longer - but it brought in little money, and Brida knew she felt guilty for not being able to do more. But her mother had been born and raised in the Diamond Quarter, and wasn't meant for this life. 

In spite of everything, her aching muscles and full belly helped her fall asleep quickly.

Being well-fed for a change suited Brida. With her newfound strength and energy, she delved farther, dug deeper, and brought more out with her. She'd spend hours in the dark warrens of the Deep Roads, combing through the rubble of forgotten thaigs, looting corpses when she found them. Occasionally she heard others pass near her; she'd hide in whatever crack or crevice she could find, sweat beading along her hairline and coursing down her face, holding her breath. It didn't matter who it was - almost anyone who might find her down there would have killed her.

Not everything would fetch a price, but she took whatever seemed salvageable. She could sew, and so she cobbled together armor to trade in Dust Town. That was risky - the Carta didn't like any business that they didn't get a cut of - but she kept it quiet enough that no one noticed. What she found that she could sell, she took to Kirun. She briefly considered waiting until she had collected a few items - one trip to his shop sounded better than three - but she didn't dare return to Dust Town with her treasures. There were too many casteless who would steal them; some wouldn't hesitate to kill her in the process. If she died, there'd be no one to care for her mother. And really, it wasn't so bad. She thought of the coin, of the food it would buy; she dreamed of gifts she might bring her mother, little trinkets to make her smile. She always vomited, but she never cried, and enough ale gave her dreamless sleep.

Things could be worse.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic post anywhere, ever. I decided I'd do some quick background pieces while I struggle with Brida's larger story. Please be gentle with me.


End file.
